Chapter Thirteen #2
There’s a long silence before Autumn blinks again, this time slower, like she’s completely in a trance.
“When I was alive, I spent too much time trying to hurt other people, fighting for something I had no right to fight for. I’m sorry for the things I did.
For being selfish and ending things because I couldn’t deal with the outcome. ”
An actual tear drips down Pippa’s cheek, and I see her reach out for Drac, only to retract her fingers the second it tries to cross the salt. She clutches them, the pain in her eyes only growing.
This isn’t what I expected when Krueger and Damien called her evil.
This isn’t someone trying to play a game or toy with people’s emotions; this is a spirit who is lost and searching for peace…
dealing with a guilt that’s bone-deep, only to realize her bones no longer exist. She may still have residual hostility, but it’s nothing compared to the pain of longing she must be feeling seeing them together.
It’s the same pain I feel every time I look at Phantom.
The girl and I have more in common than I thought.
“I preyed on people’s trust,” Autumn shouts just as the planchette slides to spell out: SORRY. “I lied. I harmed you both, blaming you for my misery.”
I don’t even know why they need the stupid board. She’s not even using it. She stepped through that goddamn door and is using Autumn as her vessel. Periodically, the stupid planchette moves, spelling out random words like…. LIE. HURT. ANGRY.
“This is so boring,” I grump, dropping to the grass in annoyance. “I was expecting some big dramatic ‘Jerry Springer’ like show, and instead I’m getting ‘Dawson’s Creek’ Ghostly Temu Edition. This is stupid.”
Damien belts out a laugh, one that catches me off guard. When I look up, he’s smirking, but still keeping his distance. He’s afraid of getting too close to the board, maybe even me.
Autumn coughs, clearing her throat as her eyes focus on Drac and Amber.
“She’s hurt, Drac. She didn’t understand her actions until it was too late.
She is searching for forgiveness.” A tear squeaks down her cheek.
“I believe it’s her unfinished business for both of you to let the past go and forgive her for the hurt she’s caused you. ”
Amber and Drac share a look. Drac looks ready to forgive, but Amber, Amber just hugs herself, looking too uncomfortable.
“I don’t know if I can do that, Autumn. You don’t understand the history of what she’s put us through. It took me a long time to somewhat forgive Eddie, but that’s different… Pippa did more than hurt us; she killed everything good and preyed on our weaknesses.
Drac hugs her and kisses the top of her head. “It’s okay, baby. I understand.”
Phantom must see the frustration building on Autumn’s face because he grabs her hand, forcing her to look at him. “If you have to shut yourself off, do it. I can already tell you’re weakening.”
She nods slowly. “I can do this,” she croaks out. “Pippa is just upset.”
That look of sadness is gone from her eyes, and she’s back to looking angry, staring daggers at Amber, who’s seconds away from fleeing.
But before she can, Drac speaks. “It’s okay if Amber can’t forgive you, Pippa. She’s been through a lot. But you have to understand, what you did was wrong. I may be able to forgive you, but I don’t know if I’ll ever forget it.”
Autumn’s head sinks to her chest again. “Please,” she begs. The planchette moves crazily under their fingers until it spells out the words: FORGIVE, then PEACE, then LIGHT. The letters forming like steps on an invisible stairwell.
Blake’s jaw tightens, the muscles working overtime underneath his skin. He’s worried about Autumn, the way her skin is turning a sallow pale color, her eyes fluttering violently as Pippa stays in her head.
“I’m sorry!” she shouts. “I know it’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t get it, Pippa. Your actions didn’t just affect us,” Amber screams. “It affected your sister too.”
Pippa falls to her knees.
The planchette stops on the letter ‘I’ then moves to the word NO.
“I carry her darkness with me,” Autumn mumbles incoherently. “My death erased the good in her.”
“Then do something about it!” Amber screams again, this time with tears spilling down her face. “Protect her! Don’t let Poppy keep doing this to herself.”
Autumn rises to her feet, then slowly turns to Amber, her iris completely gone, so only the white remains. “She can’t hear me.” Autumn’s breathing erratically again, almost like all of Pippa’s emotions are draining her.
“I can’t save her,” Autumn whispers. “She won’t even let me close.
That’s why I’ve been searching for someone to talk for me.
I’ve been carrying this burden since my death.
The weight of my guilt, the accountability neither of you ever got to collect.
I deserve whatever comes for me, but I don’t want to keep wandering.
I want to feel whole again. Please!” Autumn shouts.
“Please forgive me. I need you both to say it.”
Amber’s a sobbing mess, and Drac, he’s barely holding her together, trying his best to keep her from shaking apart.
Drac guides the planchette across the board, still holding his wife’s hand. Pippa reaches for him, begging for release. Then he spells out the word neither of them can say out loud.
FORGIVEN.
A sudden warmth surrounds us as a blinding white light appears from above, hitting the grass just to the left of them. Nobody but ghosts can see it, but Autumn feels it; she bathes in its glow like it’s healing her spirit.
Pippa steps toward it, head lifted, looking both relieved and hesitant.
“You are free, Pippa,” Autumn whispers. “Find the light and move on.”
The planchette bumbles along one last time, writing out the word GO like a child stumbling through its first steps.
“Go, Pippa,” Amber agrees. “I forgive you.” It comes out so soft that nobody but her can hear it, but she might as well have been shouting it to Pippa because the girl smiles, taking that first step to the light.
Then, like the breath silencing a candle, she’s gone, the light disappearing with her.
“So that’s how it works,” Damien exclaims in awe. “I always wondered, since I’ve never really seen it myself.” He turns to me. “You think that will ever happen for us?”
But I’m too focused on Phantom to listen to Damien’s ramblings. He’s hugging Autumn’s weakened body, kissing her forehead and then her temple, telling her how good she did.
Everyone looks relieved.
Drac exhales a laugh that is half sob, half relief.
Phantom’s fingers wrap around Autumn’s wrist, protecting her like he’s an armlet ready for battle.
That’s when everything shifts.
My jealousy turns to anger, a cold edge that slices through their cute little circle like an undercurrent of chaos.
The sage sputters and then flares, sending a sudden darker twist of smoke that burns like death and darkness.
Nobody’s touching the board, but the planchette jumps as if someone has slammed their palm down on it.
Me.
It can’t even keep up with my chaotic thoughts, the angry ramblings of a spirit scorned. The closer they get, the more I feel him pulling away, and I can’t have that, not when loving him is my whole reason for existing.
She won’t let me in. So, I use her doorway, screaming at them all through that stupid fucking board.
MINE!
MINE!
MINE!
Autumn and Blake jump back, just as the planchette moves to make more words.
“It’s Eve!” Autumn shouts. “And she’s angry.”
Blake tries to grab the planchette but misses, only stopping long enough to grab Autumn as her knees go weak and buckle beneath her.
“Eve,” she grits out, teeth bared in pain, the sound thin and worn. “Please stop this! This wasn’t for you. I didn’t invite you in.”
LIES! The planchette screams for me. LIAR!
“You’re not welcome tonight,” Autumn cries out, but she can feel the weight of my hands as they circle her throat and start squeezing.
For once, she let her guard down.
“Eve, don’t!” Damien shouts, moving up behind me. “Don’t do this!”
“She can’t have him!” I cry. “If he falls for her, I’ll die.”
“No, you won’t!” he shouts, trying to calm me.
“He’s my unfinished business, Damien. Not hers. Not yours, MINE!”
My strength increases, almost like someone’s helping me. That’s when I feel the cold creep across my spirit, a dark shadow dancing with my soul.
LEAVE! I command the board. HER!
Autumn chokes and gasps, clutching at her throat with desperate fingers.
“Eve, you gotta stop this! You’re hurting her,” Damien says, desperately trying to get me to break my hold on her.
“Good!” I shout, no longer focusing on the board, but the way Phantom’s grip on her wrist tightens, his knuckles whitening as if he’s trying to keep her grounded.
Part of me manages to break through, meeting her soul face to face in the recesses of her mind, taking advantage of her weakened state.
“Get out of my head!” she screams.
“Not until you leave him alone!”
But her eyes darken, and with all the strength she has, the door between us splinters until I’m ripped out of her mind, my spirit violently flinging in the opposite direction of her, landing a few feet away as that invisible force of protection circles her again.
She’s clutching the sage stick like it’s a talisman. Letting the smoke curl around her, gasping for breaths I successfully stole.
“I almost had her!” I shout with glee. “Damien, did you see—”
But Damien’s no longer in the field.
He’s back in the clubhouse, staring out the window with Krueger, their disappointment stabbing me in a heart that no longer beats.
Something inside me cracks like a dry twig. My knees fold, the world tilting outward as the separation starts, the tether between us breaking.
When I finally look up, Blake grasps her chin, looking deep into her eyes, seconds before his lips come down gently on hers.
“I’m here,” he says, and that two-word decree is absurdly powerful. It’s a rope thrown across a canyon, strengthening her, but weakening me. “Baby, I’m here for you.”
Phantom throws the planchette off the board, not knowing how dangerous it is. He’s doing it with the kind of protectiveness that should be illegal, cutting off my only connection to him.
“Eve, that’s enough!” His voice is a thunderclap, the bite like a bolt of lightning to the chest. “You will not touch her again,” Blake says directly to me. It’s like he can sense me spiraling, the ugly chaos turning to madness.
“She’s coming between us!” I cry, desperate to reel him back to me.
But he’s no longer focused on me. He’s focused on her, palms cupping her cheeks, his thumb swiping at her lower lip that trembles like a scared butterfly. The gesture is so small. So human.
And it breaks me.
“Are you—” Blake starts, then stops, because what do you ask? Are you okay? Are you whole? No one trusts the word okay in a world where the dead keep knocking.
Autumn manages a laugh that is more broken than anything triumphant.
“Pippa’s gone,” she says confidently. “I felt her walk into the light, although she wasn’t exactly sure if that’s where she wanted to be.
She still longs for you to love her, Eddie.
I could feel her despair over losing you, but she did move on, choosing the light instead of the dark, even though she hated it. ”
“And Eve?” Phantom questions.
Autumn frowns. “She’s not going to let you go, Phantom. She’s too obsessed with what you had. I don’t know if I can get her to cross over like Pippa; her unfinished business is more complicated than forgiveness.”
“What is her unfinished business?”
“You! Bastard. My unfinished business is you!”
But nobody can hear me. I’m screaming to the fence that separates us from the world, and the mountain silhouettes swallowing the last of the light. I’m screaming to the grass that’s wet beneath their feet, but I am somehow numb to.
Autumn shrugs. “I’m not exactly sure. I know it has something to do with you, but whatever her purpose is here, has yet to be revealed.
Just do me a favor, please. Keep her away from me.
I don’t like how she just made me feel, and I’m not sure I’m going to be able to survive her if it happens again. ”
She takes a deep breath as he presses his forehead against hers, their fingers intertwining, that connection to each other deepening to a point I can’t compete.
She sighs beneath his touch, allowing him to soothe and console her when I’m over here slowly dying.
This feels like a war I’m never going to win, and I don’t know what scares me more. The fact that I’m losing him to her, or that my connection to him is getting weaker every day.